


One Two Punch

by CaseyStar



Series: Dogtags [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Danny, DADT is still a thing, Detective Danny Williams, Doris is still dead but John isn't, Established Relationship, Inspired By Tumblr, Inspired by a picture, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Reunion Sex, SEAL Steve McGarrett, Top Steve McGarrett, as this is set pre 2010, he and steve have a good relationship, meka is a good bro, misuse of boxing equipment, theyre in their mid 20s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23120923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseyStar/pseuds/CaseyStar
Summary: Danny is trying to work out the tension of the last few days of Steve's eighteen month tour of duty with the heavy bag.  Which is when said absent SEAL comes home early.
Relationships: Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Series: Dogtags [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807150
Comments: 35
Kudos: 279





	One Two Punch

**Author's Note:**

> Here we largely ignore the laws of physics.  
> Inspired by a picture of Scott Caan boxing wearing dogtags which happens to be from the same shoot used in show-canon for the Newark charity calendar. for clarity, in fic Danny has his s1-8 hair, not the mohawk from the photo.
> 
> [I'm Kcsplace on Tumblr if you wanna chat all things McDanno (and other fandoms)](https://kcsplace.tumblr.com/)

_Two._

_More._

_Days._

Jab-jab-cross.

Danny barely felt the impact on his ravaged knuckles any more as he threw punch after punch at the heavy-bag with every word of the chant that resounded in his head. He’d been out in the garage for hours now, trying to exhaust himself, to work out the itch that crawled under his skin and had gotten him sent home from work by an increasingly impatient Meka, his partner’s normally calm demeanour a thing of the past.

_Just._

_Two._

_More._

_Days._

Jab-cross-left uppercut-cross.

He’d survived eighteen months without his lover, he could handle two more days. Forty-eight measly little hours was nothing, in the grand scheme of things.

Right?

Eighteen months with only sporadic contact in which they had to pretend they meant nothing more to each other than friends, Danny raging against the injustice of DADT while Steve, anxious to live up to the McGarrett name, was resigned. Which only made Danny more incensed, though he tried to hide it from his too-observant lover during the rare times they were able to speak.

_Two._

_More._

_Days._

Jab-right uppercut-left hook.

He’d brought it on himself, that was the worst thing. Who the fuck moved across the country, to a pineapple-infested hellhole for that matter, because of a guy you spent Fleet Week with? Not even a fucking week, just five days. 

It hadn’t _all_ been about Steve. Maybe only 25%. Danny’s mom had, upon choosing to leave a marriage three decades old, upped and moved to Hawaii, a State where she knew nobody. Hell, she’d never even left Jersey before, but she wasn’t to be dissuaded, and as the oldest son, and only one without dependents, Danny had taken it upon himself to follow and keep his mother out of trouble. That an insanely hot guy with more muscles than sense was keen to keep him in his bed was really just by-the-by.

Okay, maybe it was more like 40% about Steve.

Danny’d eaten the last pizza he’d see without fruit threatening to besmirch it, packed up his shitty apartment and come to a land where the sun seemed to have it out for him personally and he needed to take out a mortgage to buy a gallon of milk.

Meka had, after a few days of listening to Danny bitch about the stress of living with his mother again for the first time in a decade, introduced him to his old TO, who happened to be Steve’s father, which had led very nicely to having a convenient excuse to move in with Steve, the SEAL officially subletting to Danny to keep the place safe while he was away, though the spare room never saw anything more than his stuff, though he had been known to roll around on the bed for a minute if he knew company was coming around because Steve could be a paranoid little shit. 

Six months they’d been able to spend together before the deployment. Six months of lust-crazed sex behind firmly closed doors. Danny had never been exactly ‘out and proud’ but the having to hide, the having to keep the ridiculous love he felt for the fucking Neanderthal to himself, not even being able to go on a date…that’d torn at him, even more than the shit Hawaii called pizza and the fuckers at work that called him ‘ _ass-hoale’_ under their breath and refused to work with him.

Jab-right uppercut-left hook-right hand.

With every increasingly wild swing, Danny felt the tags he wore slide across his bare chest, slapping from one pectoral to the other as he danced around the bag. The click of the connecting link along the chain was largely muffled by the scuff of his bare feet, the tags themselves silent as they beat the rhythm of his combinations against his chest but he was hyper-aware of them regardless.

Had been since Steve had shyly lifted the chain over Danny’s head, looking more like a high schooler asking his sweetie to wear his Letterman jacket than a trained SEAL in his twenties. When the old tags had come to rest against Danny’s chest, Steve had flattened his palm against them, feeling the metal warm against Danny’s skin. The police officer had been tempted to make some joke about how Steve’s religious preference was going to be imprinted on his skin if he pressed any harder, but then he’d looked up into the man’s eyes, expecting something soft and sheepish in the man’s expression.

Boy, had he been wrong.

Steve’s gaze had been tracing the line of the steel chain against Danny’s neck to where the tags disappeared beneath his own palm.

Fuck, he’d looked so _hungry._

“ _St-_

He hadn’t even managed to get the word out before Steve had clenched the tags back into his fist and used them to haul Danny in, kissing his own name off an oh-so-willing mouth.Danny’s habit of calling Steve a Neanderthal had started sometime after round three that day, when they’d finally made it to the bed and horizontal. 

The picture frame they’d knocked off the wall on the way up had never been the same and Steve had blushed himself nearly to unconsciousness when John had dropped ‘round the next day and enquired as to why the Marquis’ radio antennae was so bent out of shape, much to Danny’s amusement.

John’s too, if his crooked grin and quirked eyebrow had been anything to go by. At least there was one person they weren’t having to lie to.

Bringing the tags around his neck up to his lips with aching fingers, Danny pressed a kiss against the warm metal with a sigh, trying to calm the racing of his heart, and find some peace in the burn of his muscles. He revelled in the feel of the sweat trickling down his spine; although the garage provided shade from the relentless sun, it did nothing to protect him from the humidity and heat with the air outside too still to stir a breeze through the open door. He’d long since shucked his shirt, but it’d done little to help in the stifling heat, the waistband of his jeans already saturated as a result. But while he was drenched in sweat and his arms trembled, he wasn’t nearly exhausted enough, his skin still felt too small, his mind unable to stop feeding him a newsreel of worst-case scenarios in surround-sound and technicolour.

Steve’s helo being shot down just as they finished whatever suicidal mission he’d been sent on.

The self-sacrificial idiot throwing himself on a grenade to save one of his team.

An IED taking out the team’s Humvee.

His plane crashing into the ocean _just_ off Oahu because of some engine failure.

Steve getting in a car accident pulling out of Pearl.

A million other, increasingly unlikely - but this was SuperSEAL he was worrying over after all and he was a trouble magnet - ways for Steve to never return to his arms flitted across his brain every second of every day. He didn’t even get a reprieve when he slept. If anything, the few hours he was able to scrape together each night were worse.

How was he going to survive another two days of waiting? Could he _really_ spend the rest of his life with this worry? He’d judged his last girlfriend when she’d left him because of his job. He’d been held hostage by a drug dealer and only gotten free after his partner had been murdered. When he’d gotten home, patched up and sore, it had been to find her side of the closet empty and a Dear John note on the coffee table. She’d hit on him knowing he was a cop. She’d accepted his invitation for coffee knowing he was a cop. Moved into his apartment and lived with him for two years knowing he was a cop. But when push came to shove, she’d left him _because_ he was a cop.

Could Danny cope with the knowledge that Steve could die and Danny would get nothing? Not even a goddamn flag because the military wouldn’t accept that people could be gay _and_ protect their country at the same time. He’d never know the truth of what had happened to the man he loved and even if the box he watched lowered into the ground actually held his remains.

Could he live with the not knowing and the fear and separation?

A thud behind him had him whirling, tags hidden in his fist. He squinted against the glare of the midday sun; he was still used to coming from a land that had real _weather_ and not a horror show of persistent sunshine. As a result it took his eyes a second to adjust, to make out the backlit figure that stood just on the threshold, a duffle at its feet.

Even without being able to see properly, Danny knew that silhouette, would know it anywhere.

“You don’t write, you don’t call…” Danny’s voice quavered in a way he would normally loathe but watching the smile crease Steve’s face was worth it.

“You better be fucking real or so help me-” 

“ _Danny._ ”

Oh god, that voice. That beloved voice. It’d been _weeks_ since Danny had heard it, the team going dark before, during, and after their missions, the prolonged silence often the only intel Danny received that his lover was leaving the relative safety of whatever godforsaken base he was on and entering some hellhole in the ass-crack of the world. He never knew quite where that was, but he was generally guaranteed that it was one of the most dangerous places to be, probably made all the more so by the presence of Steve and his cohorts.

“If you’re a hallucination induced by this sun-drenched hellsca-”

Danny didn’t finish because Steve barrelled toward him, crossing the space between them in three strides, one large hand reaching up and yanking hard on the chain that hung from the ceiling to bring the garage door shut behind him with a clang, before reaching out for his lover as the world was shut out. 

Calloused hands cradled Danny’s cheeks, kissing with a force and desperation that left their reunion artless, sloppy, and utterly perfect. Danny’s hands, clumsy in the gloves, flit restlessly around Steve’s ribs before settling around Steve’s wrists, sure that he was holding tight enough to grind the delicate bones together, not that his lover seemed to care, or even notice. Rather he pressed their bodies closer with a grunt, angling their mouths to try and kiss Danny deeper, as though he could climb inside him and never have to leave again.

When Danny finally had to wrench his mouth away – stupid superior SEAL lung capacity – Steve didn’t let him go far, resting their foreheads together as they heaved thick, humid air into straining lungs. A still healing cut on Steve’s lower lip from the judicious application of the butt of a rifle had opened up, the metallic tang of blood sharp on his tongue, but he couldn’t care less. The taste of _Danny_ was so much stronger, so much more.

“This is real, Boo-Boo. _I’m_ real.” 

Danny smirked as Steve’s breath wafted warm across his lips; he could now smell, as well as still taste on his tongue, the mint on Steve’s breath. The SEAL must have popped some gum on his way back from Pearl. Seeing as how he got no heads-up, Danny didn’t remotely regret the Chinese food leftovers he’d eaten over the sink for breakfast.

If Steve wanted to give him a surprise, then he’d give one right on back. That was partnership, after all. 

Right?

Steve in his grasp was incredible, all strong heartbeat beneath his fingertips and warm breaths across Danny’s cheeks, even if the words out of his mouth were the usual nonsense that Danny was man enough to endure.

“Boo-Boo?”

“It’s a term of endearment.”

“Needs work. I’m nobody’s sidekick.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Been working on that for eighteen months.”

“Proving once more to me that I’m with you for your looks and not your brains if that’s the best you can come up with.”

“No Boo-Boo?”

“Not if you ever want any bam-bam again.”

“Oh, I _want._ ” That hungry look was back again.

The cut in Steve’s lip stung when he pressed forward again, this kiss achingly gentle and soft, yet all the more demanding as Steve took his time, angling Danny right where he wanted him, bending him back, coaxing Danny’s tongue to play. The detective was all too willing to oblige, hands releasing Steve’s wrists to slide up to grab the back of Steve’s neck, fingers snagging on close cropped hair as he kept the SEAL close. 

Stretching up towards Steve’s lips was so easy, falling into their kiss so natural. Danny focused on the wonderful scent of Steve – sea salt, cheap soap and boot polish – and the tension that had so plagued him melted away at the feel of Steve’s hands sliding around his hips to press against his lower back, fingertips slipping on sweaty skin.

Desperate to reciprocate, Danny’s own hands grabbed at Steve, clumsy and artless from the gloves binding them but not stopping him from drawing their bodies together with force, clammy skin against pristine uniform.

“Ah!”

Steve’s exhalation into Danny’s mouth was one of pain rather than pleasure, and the cop pulled away, though Steve didn’t let him go too far.

“Steve?”

“It’s fine.” Steve tried to draw Danny back to him, leaning down to try to press their lips together, but Danny ducked his head away and frowned. He wasn’t going to be distracted. Rolling his eyes, Steve sighed but capitulated; he’d learned the hard way that Danny never dropped _anything._

“I’m fine. _Frustrated_ ,” he said pointedly, raising an eyebrow, “but fine.” 

It wasn’t even a complete lie: his wounds had been thoroughly cleansed and dressed, and while they were still sore, especially when impacted, he’d had far, far worse. Not that he’d mention that to Danny. He’d made the mistake of doing that once before and it had been days before the miserable look had faded from blue eyes every time the detective had caught sight of the wicked gash Steve had received during a training exercise.

What he wanted now wasn’t a discussion about his injuries, the origins of which Steve would never be able to divulge, so instead he raised a hand to Danny’s neck and tugged him close, this time his lover allowing it, all soft lips and hot mouth.

Danny’s fingers weren’t idle though, working to shed his gloves with loud rips of Velcro before making quick work of Steve’s fatigues, slipping buttons from their holes with practised ease, grateful Steve wasn’t wearing his far more complicated dress uniform as he pushed at the material until he got to the soft skin and rough bandage beneath.

“Show me,” he muttered against Steve’s lips, drawing back again much to the SEAL’s annoyance. 

“Show me,” he ordered again when Steve made no move to remove the garment, tugging on the fabric in his grasp.

Even in the dim of the garage, Danny’s breath caught at the sight of the bruises that marred the tanned expanse of Steve’s chest and abdomen when Steve reluctantly drew the fabric apart, though not off, the discoloration disappearing beneath more bandages than he was comfortable with.

Which was precisely none. That’s how many bandages he was comfortable seeing on the love of his life. He’d grown used to Steve coming home with abrasions, scratches across face and hands, but larger wounds like this, ones serious enough for the SEAL to sit still long enough for medical assistance…those still made his chest hurt.

As painful as it was to look at the bruises, Danny knew that whatever the bandages hid was undoubtedly far worse. He had to close his eyes and take a deep breath to try and push down all images that flew to mind of the wounds the gauze could cover. Being a detective with an active imagination had its drawbacks. But asking would be fruitless; Steve couldn’t tell him and Danny’s fear would express itself as anger. Worse, it’d come across as anger _at_ Steve rather than the situation and the whole thing would descend into a familiar argument.

At the end of the day, it didn’t matter. He had to remind himself of that. Where and how his lover was injured wasn’t as important as the fact that Steve was okay. Okay and back home where he belonged, and who knew how long he’d have before being sent away again. Wasting what precious time together they had was stupid and there were a lot of things that could be said about Daniel Williams, but that he was stupid wasn’t one of them.

Running tender hands over the skin, Danny watched, fascinated, as goose-bumps trailed in their wake. It’d been so long since he’d gotten to elicit that reaction, since his fingers had gotten to trace the ridges of muscles and sleek skin. 

“Not gonna let the Army keep borrowing you if they don’t return you in the pristine condition I lend you out in.”

“Navy, Danny. Navy.”

“Them either.”

Danny’s fingers toyed with the tape holding a particularly large piece of gauze to Steve’s hip, only to have the hand intercepted between both of Steve’s, the SEAL pressing the joined hands between them, close to their hearts. He cradled Danny close, unable to stop his lover’s other hand seeking out another of the bandages, palm covering the wound gently as though the warmth of his hand could heal the hurt beneath.

Maybe it could. Steve would swear he was already feeling better.

“Hey.” His voice was achingly gentle. “I’m fine. But,” he smirked, “if you want to help me feel better, you can get on board with my plan of fucking you blind.” Steve punctuated his words with a sharp thrust of his hips forward.

Steve felt the vibration of Danny’s growl before it left the blonde’s throat, the threatening snarl that he’d fallen in love with, the sound a guarantee that he’d gotten his lover back on track.

“Think you got it in you, Neanderthal?”

“You’re gonna get it in _you_.”

With a wince, Danny shook his head, a smile quirking up the edges of his mouth, eyes crinkling shut. 

“Smooth Dog is ironic, isn’t it? Lines like that ever work?”

“I got you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny dismissed, appalled at how low his standards had sunk, clearly. “But can you keep me?”

“ _Always.”_ Steve breathed the word against Danny’s lips, peppering kiss after kiss to the beloved mouth, hands roving over Danny’s skin, dipping beneath the damp waistband of the heavy denim separating him from his goal. “Never letting you go.”

“Not even to head inside, huh?” Danny laughed against his neck, arching his back to press his ass further into Steve’s possessive hold. “Gonna take me right here in the garage?”

Glancing up at their surroundings as though just recalling where they were, Steve cursed against Danny’s lips. “Damn it.”

“What?” Danny reached back to where Steve’s hands had stilled on him, anxious to get the groping back on track.

Steve looked down into the curious blue eyes he loved, so bright and beautiful. “I wanted to…I wanted this to be-” He looked away, suddenly bashful.

A chuckle rumbled against his cheek and Danny’s hands tightened on his. “Awww, babe. You wanted this to be _romantic._ You soppy bastard.”

Steve fought against the blush that crawled up his neck and lost.

“Babe, getting fucked by you, right now, is gonna be _all_ the romance I can handle. You can Mills and Boon me right here.” The enticing bulge that pressed against Danny’s belly twitched at his words, the SEAL’s cock hardening, fatigues no longer as baggy as they were designed to be. Danny reached his arms around Steve’s neck and pulled his head back down, grinning into the kiss at how easily Steve capitulated.

“Besides,” Danny continued as Steve smudged kisses along his jaw, “we’ll have time for romance. All the things I wanna do to you, we can’t fit into this garage.” Danny jerked his chin towards the hulking shape of the Marquis in the back corner of the garage. “Although number seven could happen if you’re feeling limber.”

Steve pulled his head away from where he was worrying the shell of Danny’s ear with his tongue and followed his lover’s gaze. “Backseat of the car, huh? Wear my old letterman jacket and it can double as my number five.”

“Possessive bastard, aren’t you?”

One of Steve’s hands abandoned its post drawing nonsense patterns into the skin of Danny’s lower back to toy with the chain of his old ‘tags, the twins of which glinted around his own neck, back where they belonged after his latest mission had required they be left behind. 

“You only just noticing that, Danno?”

“Still not getting a tattoo.” Finality weighed heavy in Danny’s tone; it was an old argument and not one Danny cared to have right then. He had far more interesting things on his mind. And hopefully soon on his skin.

“This list of yours. It require nudity?”

One of Steve’s eyebrows arched and he cocked his head to the side. “Some of it.” At Danny’s expression, he rolled his eyes. “Okay, most of it.” His honesty was rewarded with a kiss, just a hint of teeth giving it an edge.

“Have at it, then.”

Steve pressed Danny backwards, and when he tripped over one of his abandoned gloves, pulling out of their kiss, Steve trailed his lip along Danny’s jaw, nipping at the skin until he could suckle an earlobe between his lips, delighting in the shudder it elicited. Danny’s back impacted the coolness of the heavy bag, the couple swaying against the unsteady surface as they got reacquainted.

He’d not forgotten a single thing about his lover. Steve hadn’t been joking; he _had,_ in fact, spent months making lists of _all_ the things he wanted to do to Danny when he’d returned Stateside. High on many of those lists, was getting his fingers back around the teasing peaks of his lover’s nipples, the shorter man insanely sensitive to every pinch and twist, something Steve was more than willing to indulge.

Coming home to seeing Danny shirtless, tanned skin sweaty and golden, nipples puckered despite the heat…

Talk about being welcomed home.

Without thought, Danny rose onto his toes as Steve’s fingers raked through the thick hair that covered his chest, hands flying to Steve’s head to tug on his hair to try and encourage him to drop his head, to put his lips where Danny was desperate for them. 

To get with the program and get Danny’s jeans off already _._ Get _Danny_ off already.

“Don’t rush me,” was the response mumbled against the skin of his throat, Steve’s words buzzing against him and making him shiver, a moan ripping from his throat when Steve followed it up with a punishing bite to the inviting wing of a collarbone that was _right there._

“Hurry up and I wouldn’t have to!” Danny hissed.

“Eighteen months, babe.”

“Exactly! Eighteen months. You can sightsee later, I’ll fucking encourage it, but get to business now!”

“I’ll get you there,” Steve promised, turning his head back into Danny’s neck to draw in deep lungfuls of his lover’s scent, rubbing his face against the sweaty skin like an ecstatic cat. He snaked his tongue along the length of the tendon back to Danny’s jaw before sealing his mouth back to Danny’s with a moan.

Danny’s tongue, that wonderful sharp, wet, loving tongue welcomed him, the tip flicking a wicked tease against Steve’s lips, a thrust and parry that so mimicked what both men wanted. 

“Get. On. With. It.”

Rather than comply, Steve returned to trailing his lips along Danny’s jaw, humming at the buzz of five o’clock shadow. He grinned when Danny shivered as he closed his mouth over the pulse point between Danny’s collarbones and sucked, leaving a mark Danny would bitch about for days to Steve’s amusement and then cover with a tie, much to Steve’s disappointment. He kept going, licking his way down the detective’s chest, running his tongue through the thick hair that grew across the broad expanse, nosing along the ridge of one defined pectoral, lips blindly seeking out the nipples that had been forefront in more than a few fantasies.

It was Steve’s tongue that found it first, just the tip swiping back and forth across the stiff peak before those lips puckered and cool air blew across the nub. Unconsciously, Danny arched towards Steve, trying to raise his chest into his lover’s wicked mouth, guiding the SEAL towards his target, hissing in delight when Steve’s teeth came out to play. 

His nipples had always been sensitive, a fact Steve had abused often, anxious to learn if Danny could come from nipple play alone – he _could_ though it took hours of pleasurable torture – and his own touch over the last year was _nothing_ on how his lover’s mouth made him feel. Like there was a direct line between his chest and cock. Like his blood was on fire. 

Like if he could just spend the rest of his life like this he’d be happy.

Steve’s mouth, those delicious soft lips, were going to be the death of him. Danny was pretty sure about that, as his head fell back against the heavy bag with a groan, hips pumping up into nothing. Usually, when set loose to play, Steve would glut himself on Danny’s chest, but after one final rasp of stubble over the sensitive flesh, Steve’s lips continued on their merry way with only the rub of his thumbs to content the ache he left behind. 

Heat pooled in Danny’s gut as he watched that dark head move ever closer to where he wanted it most, sucking kisses moving down his belly, inching every closer to the bulge in his jeans. So of course, contrary asshole that he was, as soon as he dropped to his knees, Steve deviated from his path to cross to his hip, cresting the curve and dragging his tongue down the thick cut of muscle that arrowed beneath the waistband of his jeans. His hands were even more infuriating. One large palm dropped to rest _just_ to the left of where Danny’s cock, hard enough to hammer nails, was leaking a stain into his jeans, and the other hand was pressing, pressing, _pressing_ the seam up into Danny’s crack, rubbing it against his hole in a thoroughly distracting manner.

“ _Steve.”_ The name was ground out, Danny torn between trying to twist his hips sideways to get his cock under Steve’s hand, or thrust them back to help Steve explore, to get more of that shivering pleasure of his spine.

“Steven!” This time it was an unmanly yelp that he’d deny under interrogation as blunt teeth nipped into the flesh beneath his belly-button. Steve stared adoringly up at him, eyes impossibly fond but mischievous as he pressed a kiss to the skin above the heavy belt buckle that was somehow still holding up jeans that Danny wanted gone.

Wanted fucking _burned_ if it would hurry things along.

In the dimness of the garage, Steve would have sworn that Danny’s blue eyes glowed, impish and challenging as he thrust his hips forward again. For once in his life, Steve took the hint without delay, reaching for him, nimble fingers making quick work of the button, slipping it free as Danny watched, though the bastard made it achingly slow. The slow _snick-snick-snick_ of the zipper being lowered was shockingly loud, and Danny sighed in relief at the imminent release of his cock from the tight confines of his jeans; he’d been hard from the moment he’d caught sight of Steve in his fatigues.

 _Fuck_ , those fatigues. First time he’d seen Steve in them, back in a dive bar years and thousands of miles ago, he’d had to pull his jacket over his lap and cross his legs, praying that nobody noticed the hard-on he was suddenly packing at just the sight. Previously all Danny wanted to do with the endless invasion of sailors during Fleet Week was tell them to fuck off. One sight of Steve leaning cockily against the bar, beer dangling from elegant fingers, long legs wrapped in camo and Danny’s tune changed to ‘ _fuck me’._

With the zip undone, the jeans slipped lower on Danny’s hips but remained held up by the prominence of his cock. Slipping his hand past the denim, Steve’s eyebrows climbed.

“Commando?” Steve asked, corner of his mouth twisting up though he didn’t look away from where Danny’s cock now stood proudly against his lower belly. With a twist of his hips, the jeans fell and Danny kicked out of them without a care.

“In honour of my man.”

“SEALs respect the horrors of chafing.”

“Sure, my little sugar cookie.”

“Hey, there’s a reason I’ve never tried to talk you into fucking on the beach,” Steve retorted with a grimace. One too many memories of days during BUD/s that ended with rolling in sand while soaking wet before being dispatched on a 20k run had left him with some Anakin levels of distaste to sand in delicate areas.

“Yeah, because you know that’s a fight you’d never win.”

“You think I couldn’t talk you into it?”

“I think I have a better chance of getting to drive my own car when you’re in the same State.”

Steve grinned at him then, wide and goofy and so achingly young that Danny _almost_ felt bad for all the dirty, filthy, downright _disgusting_ things he wanted to do to him.

Speaking of…

“You can touch, y’know.” 

The anticipation, the desperation of getting to be with Steve after so long had his dick so hard, so fast it made his head spin. Unable to help himself, he gave his dick a few quick strokes, just to ease the pressure. 

“No starting without me.” Steve slapped at Danny’s hand with a frown.

A grunt was all Steve got in reply, and Danny couldn’t stop himself from one last, long, stroke, heart pounding at the starved look on his lover’s face as his eyes followed the movement. It was a heady thing, to be the focus of Steve McGarrett’s sole attention, to watch that honed body set to work over him, strong muscles flex and bulge as all that strength turned to the fine art of pleasure.

God, how Danny longed to bind him, lash those magnificent arms to their bed, those muscles stretched and straining, gift Steve with that same laser focus. The one time he’d mentioned it, however, idly and without much thought, Steve had instantly shut it down. If Danny hadn’t been fuck-drunk at the time, he’d have thought it through enough to keep his mouth shut; it was obvious why the idea made Steve tense. To date, Steve had nothing but negative, life-endangering, experience with being tied-up. Experience of the enhanced interrogation kind. He’d never raised the idea again, but in his most secret of fantasies, the ones he only let loose when he was tired or drunk or beside himself with missing Steve, he envisaged how beautiful Steve would look with Danny’s favourite, and much maligned, ties strapping him to the headboard, the mighty warrior trusting Danny to keep him safe, keep him satisfied, to give him nothing but pleasure.

“Audience participation is encouraged?” The grin turned predatory, Steve’s eyes slipping half closed as he took a sweeping glance of his lover, gaze zeroing in on where Danny’s cock bobbed slightly with the pounding of Danny’s heart. It was almost too much and they’d barely begun. It was just being here, in a room with Steve, with Steve’s eyes on him felt better than every orgasm he’d spilt into their bed alone. 

“Demanded.”

Steve reached out and let the soft weight of Danny’s balls puddle in his palm, the detective instinctively swaying into the touch even as he shuffled his legs further apart, watching avidly at the flex of the muscles in Steve’s forearm as he rolled the sensitive sac against his fingers. Danny’s hands flew to Steve’s shoulders to steady himself against the wave of pleasure.

“You’re gorgeous,” the SEAL murmured into the quiet between them, barely audible above their breaths. He licked his lips as he took the proud cock in a loose circle of finger and thumb and stroked it from root to head, swiping at the fluid welling at the head, smoothing it along the length to ease the way.

“Can’t be legal for someone to be this gorgeous.” Steve’s forehead came to rest against Danny’s hip, head lolling to the side so he could watch his hand move, lower lip held firm between his teeth. His breath, somehow still hotter than the air around them, danced and swirled across the slick head as Steve began to pant.

“D-don’t gotta woo me, babe. I’m seduced and all yours.”

That drew Steve’s attention from where he’d been staring fixedly at his hand’s movement, eyes wide and desperate.

“You are, aren’t you?” Steve’s tone was cocky but there was an undercurrent of vulnerability, an uncertainty in his eyes that Danny wanted to stamp out. Preferably starting by hunting down every person responsible for causing it and giving them a beating. If there were two things Danny Williams could do, it was hold a grudge like it came with handles, and use his fists.

In lieu of that, however…

“Hey,” it was shakier than Danny would have liked, but Steve turned his cheek into the hand that came up to stroke through Steve’s hair. “All yours,” he reiterated, bending awkwardly, not wanting Steve to release his hold but unable to keep their lips apart. “Just like you’re all mine. The Navy just leases you.” Danny’s tongue caressed Steve’s as he kissed him, lips soft and demanding, letting every ounce of love he felt for his idiotic boyfriend to pour free. Feeling Steve smile against his mouth, laughter bubbled up in Danny’s throat, a joyous and happy sound that poured into the empty spaces in Steve, filling him with the warmth of home.

Steve slithered up Danny’s front, ignoring the stuttered protest when he released Danny’s cock, replacing his touch with the press of his clothed form against as much of Danny’s naked skin as possible, rolling his hips to drag the fabric of his fatigues across Danny’s cock, greedy for every shiver and hitch of his breath the detective gifted him with.

Goosebumps raced across Danny’s stomach when Steve trailed gentle fingertips up one forearm, the soft touch morphing into a scratch as it crested the bulge of Danny’s bicep, before gentling again as Steve stroked across his shoulder and down to where his heart pounded in his chest.

“Less romance, more fucking,” Danny squirmed as he tried to hurry Steve on.

“Shhh.”

“Steve-”

“I haven’t even started yet, babe.”

Steve leaned in, breath hot and sweet against Danny’s neck, licking his tongue up the sweaty skin, pressing close to beg in Danny’s ear. “Just let me. _Please,_ Danny.”

And well, who was he to refuse that this man?

Nodding, Danny sucked his lower lip between his teeth as Steve began his assault anew, flicking his tongue against Danny’s ear before sucking the lobe into his mouth, the heat of his mouth incendiary.

Never one to lie back and take it, Danny gave as good as he got, turning his head into the SEAL’s neck, nipping at the tendon he found, nudging his nose into the open placket of Steve’s shirt to inhale deep lungfuls of his favourite scene in the world; sea salt and sweat and imminent sex. Fixing his mouth around the swell of muscle at the top of Steve’s shoulder, Danny bit down, sucking as much of the warm flesh between his teeth as he could, worrying at it until he was sure his mark was as vivid as the ink that adorned the Steve’s body.

For lack of being able to scream from the rooftops for people to keep their hands off, it would have to do.

Rather than pull away, Steve stuttered out a surprised moan and arched into Danny’s touch, hands flying to rest on Danny’s head, cradling his love close, begging wordlessly for him to go on, to mark him again and again and _again_. Danny was more than happy to do so; it was addictive, being with Steve like this, and he knew, though was unlikely to verbally acknowledge , that he was just as possessive over the other man, even when he knew the marks would fade in a few days.

He could make more. They had time now.

Danny could feel how wet he was, feel the trickle of pre-come slide down the length of his cock, tickling against his balls and he _ached_ for Steve to catch it on his tongue. For his strong, unbending warrior to go to his knees again, willingly, _wantonly_ , and to use that beautiful and infuriating mouth to bring Danny pleasure instead of aggravation.

The thought of burying himself once more down Steve’s throat was enough to cause another pulse of fluid to well up.

“What do you need, babe. Tell me what you need.” Steve’s voice was ragged and hushed.

“What do I need? ‘ _What do I need’_ , he asks?!” Danny addressed the garage at large, jabbing Steve in the chest repeatedly. “What is the matter with you?! I _need_ you to touch me. Fuck me. _What are you waiting f-?”_

Steve’s lips were on Danny’s with a crushing force before he could finish the sentence, tongue filling Danny’s mouth, teasing and coaxing, thrusting and flicking. All the while Steve’s hands cupped Danny’s hips, nails digging perfect crescent moons into pale skin before scraping lines of fire across his lower back to drop and cup the perfect ass he loved.

How he’d missed that ass. It was a work of art: round, high, tight and Steve always struggled to keep his hands off it when they were home alone together. Were he so inclined, Steve would have written poems, ballads, and no small number of dirty limericks about Danny’s ass. As he wasn’t, he’d instead spent far too much of his allotted shower time, and what other moments he’d been able to eek out in a dark corner with thirty seconds of privacy, imagining all the filthy, immoral and likely illegal things he wanted to do with and to that ass.

Chief among them…

“Steve…” Anyone else might have described the sound Danny made when Steve pulled away from their kiss as a mewl, but no matter what his lover loudly claimed to anyone who would listen, Steve didn’t actually have a death wish and so he wouldn’t be one of them.

Eyes still closed, Danny blindly followed after Steve’s lips, hands grasping at his biceps before he was spun around and pressed against the heavy bag, the SEAL dropping to his knees with a painful sounding thud as Danny’s arms flew up to wrap around the bag, rocking onto his toes with the unexpected movement until Steve’s hands steadied them both, the chain of the bag clanking at the sudden impact.

“Hold on,” Steve ordered, voice muffled by the skin of Danny’s lower back, tongue tracing the beguiling tan line that marked the skin others could see and that which only Steve was privy to.

That only Steve could touch.

He didn’t take the honour lightly.

“Oh God.”

Hinging at the waist, Danny tightened his grip, shuffling his legs back and apart to give his lover the room to get to work. Looking back over his shoulder, he warned, “Letting you know now, this won’t last long.”

It never did when Steve’s tongue worked its magic on his hole, but after a year and a half apart, with the airless heat of the garage, with the way that Steve was staring at him like he was an eight course meal…he was far too eager and desperate.

This wouldn’t last long _at all._

“Oh, you’ll last, babe. As long as I want you to.”

Steve palmed Danny’s cheeks, huge hands filled to overflowing, unable to help himself from squeezing them together before drawing them apart, greedily staring at his goal. Danny tensed as Steve’s breath washed over his skin, relaxing with a moan as Steve’s tongue started it’s torment, tracing the top of his crack before sliding down an inch, retreat and advance, retreat and advance, retreat and _advance._

The detective’s skin tasted of sweat and musk and it only fed Steve’s hunger. How had he gone so long without this man? Not just the interminable months of his latest tour, but all the years that went before? Until he’d met Danny he hadn’t considered himself lonely, nor his life empty, had considered his sex life more than fulfilling, even excellent at times.

Then, along came the mouthy, newly-promoted detective from Jersey whose words and anger and love had filed every nook and cranny within Steve, the man muscling in and making room for himself where others had never made it so much as to the door. Steve hadn’t stood a chance.

And the sex… _fuck_ , the sex. Nothing and nobody else came close.

Reach up as high as he could, Steve pressed his hand between Danny’s shoulders and pushed, Danny acquiescing and leaning forward, resting more of his weight against the heavy bag and feeling it sway. Steve moaned his appreciation and buried his face between Danny’s cheeks, rewarding his usually stubborn lover with the tip of his tongue, grinning as the muscle clenched as though to try and suck him in.

Soon enough.

“That’s it,” encouraged Danny.

Steve dipped his head, pulling Danny’s hips further back, flattening his tongue against the base of balls pulled high with arousal, plump and rolling against Steve’s tongue, and laving back up the length of the detective’s crack before turning his head to bite at the plump flesh.

“You lost?” Danny gasped. 

Biting harder, Steve lowered his head once more and set to work. Stiffening his tongue, he traced ever tightening concentric circles around Danny’s hole, wetting the skin as much as possible, feeling Danny soften and flutter under his ministrations. 

“Finally,” the word was breathed above him. “Thought I was gonna have to draw you a fucking map. Thought you SEALs had inbuilt GPS or some shit.” Despite the harshness of his words, Danny’s body was swaying with the bag, his body betraying his enjoyment as he rocked back on to the invading tongue, cock leaking a near-constant stream of pre-come.

Turning his head, Steve released one cheek and stuffed two of his own fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue in a poor imitation of the weight of Danny’s cock, feeling saliva flood his mouth, leaving his fingers dripping. Returning his attention to Danny’s hole, this time Steve’s fingers played alongside his tongue, the SEAL alternating the soft slickness of his tongue and the hard press of his fingers, easing the way for his tongue to finally breach Danny’s body, teasing the rim as it flicked inside.

Danny panted into the leather of the bag that slipped in his sweaty grip, chest heaving. His hips rocked back into Steve’s mouth, chasing the softness of tongue and rasp of stubble. Normally, Steve shaved daily, but it was clear he hadn’t done so in a few days, perhaps in deference to the healing cuts on his face, perhaps due to a lack of opportunity, but Danny wondered if he could talk Steve into ditching his razor more often. The burn and drag of stubble across the delicate skin of his ass, Steve’s chin working against his balls as he mouthed and sucked at Danny’s hole…it was making him delirious. He was burning up, desperate to hump against the bag, against anything, but Steve kept his hips in a tight grip, kept his ass against Steve’s mouth and every time he tried to thrust, he set the bag into motion, his core screaming as he struggled to keep his balance.

He needed a hand, a mouth, a fucking gust of air would do it, and he’d say so out loud, order Steve to take him in hand, just as soon as he could remember how to make his tongue, which currently three sizes too large for his mouth, form words. His cock was painfully hard, leaking profusely, and he was pretty sure that if Steve were to breathe in its vicinity, he’d be sent over the edge. 

Chance would be a fucking fine thing.

Danny loosened his grip on the bag a little, intending to reach down and give himself just one good stroke, but as soon as he relaxed his hold, his body lurched dangerously, and Steve growled as the movement separated his tongue from Danny’s ass.

“Stop it,” he mumbled, shuffling forward on his knees to get back where he wanted to be.

“Then give me something.”

Steve leaned back, replacing his tongue with his fingers, pressing one in to the first knuckle before Danny could complain at being abandoned.

“What did you tell me once? ‘ _You get what you get and you don’t get upset’?_ ”

Danny snarled in frustration as Steve nipped and bit along his crack rather than putting his mouth back where Danny wanted it.

“I was _talking_ about what I made you for breakfast, you ass.”

“And what an ass,” Steve sucked a bruise to bloom at the crease where thigh met buttock, enjoying the deepening mark so much he did the same on the other side. “Worth you’re awful scrambled eggs any day.”

Lifting his head from the bag, Danny scoffed.

“Really? You’re so lucky you’re pretty, McGarrett. You love my eggs.”

“I certainly love your ass.”

There was the sound of a boots shifting on concrete and then Steve’s mouth was gone once more, his body slithering up the length of Danny’s to mold against his back. Cock, hot and hard even through several layers of clothing, pressed into Danny’s ass, the fabric torture against the detective’s oversensitive skin as the SEAL bucked against him, the other man driving Danny’s crazed with the little grunts and moans of desire that accompanied every thrust.

“This would work better without pants, babe. Or don’t they teach you that in the Army.”

“Navy.”

“All the same.”

“Like fuck.”

“Yes, I’d like to fuck. I’d fucking _love_ to fuck. So if you don’t mind getting on with it?”

In answer, Steve teased his fingers up Danny’s sides, tracing the defined musculature that haunted his dreams, the hard abs covered in soft skin courtesy of the ridiculously expensive soap Danny favoured, and on up to the thick hair that covered Danny’s chest, fingers greedily grabbing at the tags that hung over the smaller man’s heart. His other hand explored Danny’s stomach, calloused fingers tracing circles around the well of navel, Danny’s hips thrusting desperately to try to get Steve’s hand to drop lower, almost crying in relief when his lover’s touch grazed the hair at his groin sending shivers up his spine.

It was too much and not close to enough. Danny hungered for more. It must surely have been _hours_ since Steve had given him just the barest of strokes. He _needed_ it. He’d cry for it. He’d _beg_ for it if that’s what would get Steve to take pity. It was torture. Was that what the Navy was teaching their interrogators now?

“So help me-”

“Want something?” Steve’s movements might have been measured, his body under consummate control, but his voice was raged, breathless.

“Get in me. _Now.”_

Sir, yes, Sir.”

Danny rocked against the bag when Steve’s hands left him, an utter betrayal after his previous statement, but the clink of button and belt had Danny twisting his head to try and peer under his arm, cruelly denied the pleasure of watching Steve shed his pants by the dimness of the garage and the angle, their bodies too close to see anything. Still, the sound of the belt clanging open was the sexist sound Danny had ever heard.

Seconds later he found himself corrected; the soft ‘ _whumph’_ of fatigues and boxers hitting the floor to pool around Steve’s still booted feet was way better, especially when it was immediately followed by Steve’ guttural moan as he pressed close once more, naked cock insistent between Danny’s buttocks to leak hot trails against his lower back. Steve’s bare chest, finally now free of his shirt, pressed against Danny’s back, the rough rasp of gauze somehow adding to the experience, the ‘tags around Steve’s neck digging into back.

It was all so _Steve._

Everywhere they touched was electric, fresh sweat blooming, skin sliding on skin. Steve thrust against Danny once, twice, three times, hands grasping at bucking hips, the other returning to slither up Danny’s chest to once more grasp the tags, twisting the chain around his fist to hold Danny tight.

Steve was heavy at Danny’s back, his hold possessive, desperate and it was making Danny dizzy with want, breathless in the best possible way.

“Steve.”

“Hang on,” the SEAL ground out, tilting his hips back and away from Danny’s, much to the detective’s annoyance.

“What are you-”

“Wait a _minute._ ” 

“For what, Steven? Divine fucking intervention? Because I was getting there before you stopped!”

“Do you ever shut up?”

The hand holding Danny’s hip released, the man twisting awkwardly, unwilling to release the tags he held as he contorted behind Danny, and the detective was about to ask what the fuck the man was playing at when he had the clink of belt and the crinkle of something.

Ah.

“Sure of yourself, weren’t you, Jarhead?”

Steve nipped at the base of Danny’s neck for that slight, the enticing swell of vertebrae too great to ignore. 

“Not exactly fighting me off here.”

“How about _getting_ me off? Or do I gotta do everything around here, you putz?”

“Easy, babe. It’s been awhile.” Another crinkle, and the man’s next words came out slightly muffled, as though something were between his teeth. “Let me do this right. I’ll take care of you.”

Steve resented the condom he was having to roll down his cock, wanting desperately to know what it felt like to take Danny bare, or be taken by him. But their jobs were both too dangerous, they were both too often exposed to blood and other bodily fluids, Steve especially, to risk it. But one day.

“You always do. Eventually.” Danny’s tone was pointed, drawing him back to the present and the man squirming impatiently in his hold.

As Danny bitched, Steve’s hand, now slick with the fetched lube, teased down his crack and coated his hole. Steve knew he had to be careful, slow; it had been so very long and his love was strong but not indestructible, and no matter the horror stories his brothers-in-arms would regale him with of spouses and girlfriends that were a little too practiced for having supposedly been celibate the length of a tour, Steve knew his Danny. The man was loyal to the core and no hand other than his own would have touched him from the moment that Steve had left. It wouldn’t even have occurred to him.

He started slow, familiar, a teasing finger, slippery and gentle as it stretched Danny. 

“You okay?”

“Like falling off a bike,” Danny grunted when Steve teased at his rim, a second finger pressing against his hole but not entering, not yet, just making its presence known. He’d fingered himself a few times while Steve had been away, but it had been infrequent, unsatisfying, the loneliness so much deeper after, left an ache inside him fingers could never reach. Danny’s fingers could never replace Steve’s or his cock, and the one time he’d considered buying a sex toy he’d instantly opted against it. Oahu was too small for him to buy a dildo without the island’s entire criminal fraternity somehow getting wind of the cop that liked taking it up the ass, no way was he asking his _mother_ to buy one – and he’d had to drink heavily after that thought, and even more heavily after acknowledging that Clara actually _would_ buy him a dildo if he asked – and the thought of ordering one online made him break out in hives at the thought of the box being opened at the port.

Besides, deep down, he wanted _Steve,_ not some chunk of silicone, no matter how nicely it vibrated or how thick it was. Danny was all about the heat and skin and sweat and _Steve._ If he couldn’t have that, he didn’t want anything. So it’d been a while, but it was still so familiar. The gentle but insistent way that Steve made room for himself, in his body as well as his life. 

“Relax, sweetheart.” The words were practically purred into his ear as Steve pressed his second finger in. There was a sting as the pressure increased, but it was chased away immediately as Steve’s questing fingers rubbed up against the gland inside him that yanked sounds from Danny’s throat that he’d never thought he could make.

Little grunts of pleasure were spilling from Danny’s throat, unable to help himself and unwilling to try. Much as he gave Steve hell, he always wanted the SEAL to know how he was making his lover feel incredible, let the man take pride in how much pleasure he brought Danny, how satisfied he left his lover each and every time. He never wanted Steve to feel unwanted. To feel that Steve, and the secrecy that their relationship required, was too much effort, that Danny could find what he needed without such baggage elsewhere.

Maybe he could. But he didn’t _want_ to. He wanted Steve, trolley loads of vintage baggage, DADT, and all.

Sweat was pouring down Steve’s spine and his cock ached by the time he deemed Danny ready, but he couldn’t care less. The air felt so thick he could barely breathe, his head was spinning, and his vision had narrowed down to the exclusion of everything but the tan expanse of muscle before him. All he needed was right there, in his arms. Danny was all he’d ever wanted and he’d spent so long dreaming of him, of being back here like this, for Danny to be just like this, ready and desperate to take him in.

Unable to spread his legs any further apart with his ankles bound by his fatigues and refusing to stop to unlace his boots, Steve nudged at Danny’s feet until he brought his legs closer together to raise him a little, the SEAL bending his knees to negate some of their height difference. It wasn’t usually a problem in their bed but standing, Steve in boots and Danny barefoot, it was more of an issue with the majority of their difference in height being in the length of their leges. Not one that would stop them, but a difficulty that had to be overcome nonetheless.

Steve had to bite his tongue, hard, when he finally took himself in hand, pressing the head of his cock to Danny’s hole with one hand, the other hand flattening over tags and pounding heart.

“Your pace, babe.”

The bag slipped in Danny’s sweaty grip even as he tightened his arms to brace himself against its uncertain support, the movement rocking Danny back against him, cock catching on Danny’s hole, and all Steve wanted to do was push forward, bury himself all the way to the hilt, over and over and over again.

Forever.

Instead, he trembled and grit his teeth until they creaked, letting Danny take his time, rocking back onto Steve’s cock, hole squeezing mercilessly down on him as the detective explored his limits after so long without.

So focused was he on mentally working backwards through field stripping a P90 to stave off his orgasm, Steve was utterly unprepared, though in truth shouldn’t have been surprised, for Danny to buck himself back with a sharp cry, forcing himself to take Steve in one fell swoop, not stopping until Steve’s hips were cradled against his ass. Channel fluttering wildly around the invading cock, Danny panted into the heavy bag.

“Danny!”

Steve tried to pull himself backwards but the second he moved Danny cried out. “Stop, wait. Just wait. Just give me a minute.” The detective adjusted his grip on the heavy bag as he begged his lover to stay still, their bodies swaying gently as the bag clinked against its chains with the violence of Danny’s thrust.

Steve suppressed the panic that rose in him. Danny was underprepared for what he’d done, too tight, the force of the coupling too much after such time apart, their need for each other too great to be sensible.

Story of their entire relationship.

Part of Steve, the part lodged so firm and tight within his lover, wanted to follow Danny’s lead, to rush, to withdraw and slam back inside, to take, to give Danny what he so clearly was desperate for. But the rest of him, the part of him that loved this man beyond all reason and logic, that would rather be buried alive in hot coals than hurt him, held still, wrapping his free arm low around Danny’s hips to hold him still and steady, the other like a vice around his chest, giving his lover the time he needed for his body to adjust.

“Idiot,” he breathed, love dripping from his tone as he peppered kisses over Danny’s shoulders and back. “Such an idiot. Why’d you do that?”

“Fucking _fuck_ ,” was the only response.

“You okay?”

“Your huge cock-”

“Flatterer.”

“-is shoved up my ass, finally. I’m fucking _fantastic._ ” Danny’s voice was strained but sincere and the clasp of his body was easing. As it did so, Steve could feel Danny’s impatience well up once more, little hitches in his hips as he squeezed the length inside him and explored his limits. Steve loosened the grip on his hips in response, letting Danny twitch and roll his hips as he pleased, providing support without restraint.

Taking advantage, Danny rocked, both men gasping at the feel, his movements clumsy at first before increasing in confidence and depth. Every roll of Danny’s hips, the only place their bodies moved, was perfect, the men rocking against the bag, and if Steve closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was out at sea, taking Danny out to his favourite fishing spot where he could fuck him up on the deck in the sunshine as the boat rolled against the lapping waves, Danny free to be as loud as he wanted with no fear of discovery.

Another time. Now wasn’t the time to be lost in fantasy, not when he had the real deal in front of him, around him. Instead, he focused on the heavy planes of muscles that lined his lover’s shoulders and arms, the salty tang of sweat that burst across his tongue when he licked the rivulets from between shoulder blades, the little patch of pale skin on his nape that meant Danny had had his hair cut in recent days, the revealed skin not yet tanned golden.

He’d wanted to look good for Steve’s return.

Steve’s heart clenched at the thought, his love and hunger for the man in his arms building, swelling up his throat. Unable to even comprehend the maelstrom of emotions, utterly overwhelmed, Steve leaned forward and buried his teeth into the base of Danny’s neck, just below that strip of white and _finally_ wrapped his hand around Danny’s cock at the same time, tight but oh-so slow.

Danny’s hips jerked into Steve’s hold, trying to force a faster pace, needing more but being denied, the SEAL keeping his strokes slow, rolling his thumb over the flared head, spreading the wetness that dripped free down the length, slicking his hand. He longed to watch, to see the thick cock spearing his grasp as Danny thrust into it, but with their position, in order to keep the angle that gave his lover the most pleasure Steve had to content himself with the feel of the heat against his palm, the slick sounds as his fist moved, the way Danny’s chest rumbled beneath his hand as he moaned, and just like that, any desire he had to draw it out, to prove a point to Danny by torturing them both, fell by the wayside. 

He tightened his grip and set a fast, relentless pace. Danny lurched in his arms as Steve jerked him.

Once.

“Shit! Oh fuck,” Danny groaned, “shit, shit, shit, that’s it. I will kill you if you stop.”

Twice.

“ _Finally._ God finally, so good, give it to me, please, yessssss-”

Danny grunted as he came, come smearing over his belly, Steve’s hand and the bag. The sharp tang of it mixed with the scent of sweat and leather and some distant, barely functional, part of Danny’s brain knew he could never enter a boxing gym every again. He’d be hard from the moment he went through the door, and that was not a reputation he needed.

“Perfect,” Steve breathed into Danny’s neck, tongue laving the bite he’d left. Danny, weak as a kitten, limp in his arms, simply tilted his head to the side to give his lover greater access, letting Steve glut his oral fixation by sucking and biting against neck and shoulders. Ever the possessive bastard, Steve’s hand still held Danny’s softening cock, no longer stroking, not squeezing, just cradling that most vulnerable part of him.

“You’re perfect,” he said again as he rocked into Danny, the roll of his hips becoming more hurried, thrusts shallower, harder, breath punching out of him in gasps. His thighs burned, sweat dripped into his eyes and his heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. 

He _needed_ to come.

“C’mon, babe. Give it to me.” Danny purred, bucking into Steve’s thrusts as much as he was able, knees weak, thighs trembling. His toes ached from where he was gripping the concrete to keep his balance under the weight and force of Steve’s movements. Every roll of Steve’s hips dragged a moan from him, and pinned as he was between Steve’s bulk and the bag, there was little he could do but take what his lover gave.

Steve moved on instinct, all thoughts of finesse or control gone, caring only about emptying himself into the perfectly imperfect man in his arms. He gulped in air, drawing in the scent of Danny into his lungs, into his blood, let it pound through his body to seep into his bones with every beat of his heart. 

_Danny._

_Danny._

_Danny._

Exhausted, Danny wished he had free use of his hands so he could reach back and grip Steve’s hips, guide his pace, help his lover along by. Maybe dig his nails into that pretty, pretty skin, knowing how Steve got off on just the hint of pain. He could barely scrape together enough sense to keep his balance, body trembling as he worked to stay on his feet. All he could do was clench down on the invading flesh and let his moans flow free, loud and unabashed.

In contrast, when Steve came it was with barely a whisper.

 _“Danno,”_ he murmured softly, the name stretched out to fill the space between them, the garage, the azure sky and shimmering sea.

Filling Steve’s world.

Steve’s hips snapped forward one last time, sharp, deep, forceful, so hard it nearly tipped Danny off his feet, the heavy bag swaying forward dangerously and it was only Steve’s tight grip across his chest that kept the detective from falling forward. Danny, wrung out and breathless as he was, overstimulated and on edge, loved every second of it.

Right up until Steve stopped moving and slumped against his back, forcing Danny to bend over even further, risking life, limb and no small quantity of expensive orthodontic work if he fell. 

“Fuck, you’re heavy. Get off me, you oaf. What do they feed you in Secret-astan?”

“I’m a growing boy.” Steve slapped Danny on the ass, the detective clenching down on the softening cock in his ass in retaliation, grinning into the leather his face was still smooshed against at the hiss and slap he got for his actions. 

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Shut up.” Steve’s chest was plastered to Danny’s back, his bandages no doubt ruined and in dire need of a change. Danny would probably bitch and complain the entire time, a sad look in his eyes once he got a look at what lurked beneath the gauze, but in that moment, Steve couldn’t care less. 

“I’m serious, get off.”

“Already did, thank you.”

“Steven!”

Reluctantly, Steve stood up, removing his weight from Danny’s back and guiding the detective upright, slowly and carefully. The movement caused Steve’s cock to slip free and he instantly replaced it with his fingers, caressing the abused rim of Danny’s hole, some dark part of his soul crowing at the sight of his love so used and knowing it had been him to do it, even while the rest of him worried that he’d been too rough for their reunion.

Danny hissed at the contact, stepping away and turning, waving away Steve’s concerned look with a flap of his hands.

“Hands off, you bossy, possessive asshole.” Despite his words, Danny wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck and drew him down, kissing the worry out of Steve’s mouth. He loved how Steve kissed after he came, when the desperation and lust had passed but he still needed closeness, still craved his lover’s touch. Steve kissed with everything he was, but after he came there was a laziness, a softness in the way his hands always found their way to move up and down the channel of Danny’s spine, soothing and soft as they came down from their high.

“You love it,” Steve argued, nuzzling against Danny’s neck. Danny always smelled incredible, earthy and sun-warmed, a musk of sweat and sex making him delicious even in Steve’s satiated state. He tasted even better when Steve licked up his neck, glutting all his senses.

“Why do I put up with you?” Asked Danny even as he tilted his head to the side to allow Steve access, shivering with every kiss against over-stimulated skin.

“You think I’m pretty.”

“You’re okay.”

“Nah, I see through you. You love me. You love me ‘cos I’m pretty.”

“Oh God, shut up.”

“Make me.”

Danny did just that, because he realised he could do it. He _could_ endure the fear, because the flipside of it was this. 

This and this and _this_.


End file.
